


Drinking Mr. George

by paperdollkisses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/pseuds/paperdollkisses
Summary: Thank you to my beta, Rea! You make all the words prettier!
This was going to be a story for a square of my bingo card, and then it was going to be another story for another prompt on my bingo card, and then it became something completely different. But I like it. I hope you do as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Rea! You make all the words prettier!
> 
> This was going to be a story for a square of my bingo card, and then it was going to be another story for another prompt on my bingo card, and then it became something completely different. But I like it. I hope you do as well.

The first visit happened primarily because Clint was hot after working on the construction site all day. Clint would have more time off in a few days to get the normal staples set up for his room, but the first two nights, he only had enough energy for grabbing a sandwich and a drink from the deli. A shower hadn’t completely cooled him down, and the bottle of water he drank hadn’t done much to soothe his dry throat. Tonight, he was looking for something with a little more taste to it.

He'd been told that the Directors Cut had some outstanding burgers and nachos and the beer on tap was brewed locally.The bar was across the street from the bed and breakfast he was staying in for the duration of the job; it had been recommended to him the first day he rolled in after a last minute site change, but he’d been too busy settling in and setting up the job site and going through the permits to check it out. By the time the brass and wood door closed behind him Clint was more than ready for a beer or two. 

He settled on a stool at the bar before looking around. Part brownstone, part gleaming red wood walls, the red wood carried up to a beamed ceiling reminiscent of a warehouse or maybe a modern barn. Lantern lights dangled from the beams and sconces in the same design graced the walls. Overall it was a good look: comfortable, roomy, and surprisingly low key. The classics of rock were piped in through hidden speakers at a level that encouraged talking but allowed you to lose yourself a little too. Clint felt his shoulders drop as he turned back to the bar. 

“What can I get ya?” 

He would have had to be blind not to appreciate the woman in front of him. Her burgundy hair framed a heart shaped face, the green eyes and red lips both curved in amusement as he took a little longer than would be considered polite to respond.

He allowed his own mouth to move into a smirk. “Whatever you have on tap that’s dark and can I get a burger medium, with everything?”

“You want fries or rings with that?” She was already reaching for a pint mug.

“Rings. And if you have horseradish I’ll take some on the side.” He watched as she pulled the beer.

“Got it. I’m Natasha if you need anything else.” She turned away before he could say anything else; he huffed a small laugh as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

The first sip slid smoothly over Clint’s tongue with just the perfect amount of bitterness, rich and cool, exactly what he had wanted when he walked in. He took the time while he waited on his food to look around some more. He could feel the calm of the place seep into him; he had been carrying around more stress than he thought. His eyes lingered on the bartender on the opposite end of the bar. The profile was appealing, as was the painted on blue henley lay untucked over a worn pair of jeans that fit in all the right places. He turned his head, and Clint felt his cheeks warm, his own smile widening as he got a full on look at the blue eyes amplified by the bartender’s glasses and the dimples at the edge of his smile. Natasha blocked his view with a knowing look as she slid his plate in front of him. 

“All tips are donated to US veterans’ mental wellness fund. Plus, if you donate $22, Phil over there does 22 pushups. That is 22 pushups for the 22 veterans who commit suicide per day.” she sat down the requested horseradish and the condiment carousel. “Another beer?”

“Yeah.” Clint reached for the horseradish sauce and knife a little distracted by the thought of ‘Phil’ doing pushups.

She pulled his beer and put it down, leaving him to eat. It wasn’t long before a bell rang and chants of “Twenty two, twenty two.” broke the calm of the bar. With a sheepish grin and an eyeroll worthy of a teenager Phil came around to the front of the bar and dropped executed the 22 pushups easily before hopping back up with a bow amongst the cheers of the patrons.

Clint’s burger sat forgotten in the moment as he watched. He heard a snicker to his left and pulled his eyes away from the man now washing his hands. 

“How’s that burger?” Natasha asked innocently. 

Clint narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s good. Very flavorful.” He felt caught out as she walked away with what could have been a giggle, but that wasn’t going to stop him from ringing the bell. 

It didn’t take him long to make his way through the juicy burger, nor the spectacular amount of crispy onion rings on his plate. Clint had turned down the offer of dessert in favor of another beer, satisfied with the rich bittersweetness of it spreading across his tongue and not wanting to muddle it with another flavor. Plus the last beer had come from ‘Phil and his smile, so nothing wrong with that either.

Clint pushed his bill amount, plus tip, and then some across the bar with long fingers. He killed the glass and smirked right back at Natasha as she counted out the money and reached for the bell. The sound echoed like before and the regulars started their chant. The difference this time was the sheepish grin was directed at Clint, the push ups slower and more deliberate, and the roll up to standing more graceful; Phil’s eyes meeting Clint’s when he was done. A faux salute later and Clint was walking towards the doors, Phil’s eyes following him as he left.  
It would have been a cliched rom-com if Clint would have had dreams of those flexing biceps and ended up hard and wanting the next morning. In reality as he settled in to sleep that cheeky grin flashed behind his eyelids before the day dragged him under; and well, morning wood was a thing. The next morning he stuffed himself on fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and toast. The B&B’s owners were talented with a recipe and free breakfast with lodging was the reason he loved B&B’s. Much better than the plastic continental breakfasts at most hotels.

Another few days of scorching heat, frustrated workers, and one delay after the other had everyone in a bad mood. It was a relief on Saturday morning when he didn’t have to do anything when he woke up except lay in the amazingly soft sheets. As with all good things, however, that came to an end when he thought about all the stuff he should be doing. So he pulled on a sleeveless tee and loose cargo shorts in deference to the heat before heading out on his errands.

Clint had asked around after a few of essentials the first days: grocery, laundry, library, gym. He had been pleasantly surprised that the B&B had not only a coin laundry on the first floor but a small gym with treadmill and weight set. He’d already visited the bar and the greasy spoon/deli. So, that left a trip to the grocery before he started on mundane chores.

He had expected the ‘small corner store’ to be just that, a glorified 7-11, but he was glad to find that it was bigger and better stocked than he’d thought. He grabbed a cart instead of a basket and loaded a case of water in the bottom before heading off to wander the aisles. The mini fridge in his room was more dorm sized than mini and included a small freezer; there was also a two burner stove so he would be able to cook a bit more than he got to most places. As he picked and chose meat, cheese, and bread he heard a familiar laugh. Glancing down the aisle, he spotted Phil reaching for a package at the butcher counter. No jeans today, but loose sweatpants with ARMY down the side and a baggy tee shirt that hid what Clint suspected were some nice abs but stretched nicely across those delicious biceps. He wandered over as the man turned in his direction.

Phil’s smile widened when he caught sight of Clint. “Clint, hey. Finally got a day off?” He nodded to the shopping cart. The second time Clint had gone into the bar he and Phil had been able to talk a little. Once Phil got him talking about what he was doing here, before long they were commiserating about everything from last minute changes in jobs, to schedules and not being settled in. Phil had been the one to mention the grocery and library to him as well as point him to where to get some of his microbrews bottled, along with a not so subtle suggestion that he was welcome at the bar for fresh hot food and beer on tap. Clint couldn’t say for sure that he was being flirted with or not but the invitation stuck.

“Yeah, finally. Didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Ms. Mabel has the most amazing sheets I’ve ever slept on. But needs must.” his lips twisted a bit ruefully. “I had the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever had for breakfast, washed every scrap of clothing I have except for what I’m wearing and now I’m here.”

Phil laughed. “So you’re not an undress and throw everything in the laundry kind of guy?”

“Hey, I like Ms. Mabel. She doesn’t need to see that.” Clint’s voice was filled with amusement, and his cheeks had gained a slight smattering of pink.

“You’re right. Ms. Mabel is a fine upstanding lady - and Mr. George might come at you.”

“Mr. George as in ‘my late George, bless his soul’?” 

Phil nodded. “Yep, he’s in the backyard under the lemon tree.”

Clint gasped, with a look of faux outrage. “Under the lemon tree where she gets her lemons to make her magnificent lemonade?”

“Yes, you’ve been drinking Mr. George.” Phil’s look was very serious.

Clint put his hand to his chest, his head tilting back as he laughed. “No, not that. Anything but that.”

“I was going to put together some cheesesteak sandwiches tonight and watch something On Demand. If you don’t have anything to do, you could join me.” he wasn’t quite sure where the invitation had come from. Well, that was a lie, he had been thinking of asking the guy over and welcoming him to town. However brief his time may be. The warmth that had gone through him when Clint laughed had been the deciding factor that now was a good time.

Clint was doing an awful lot of smiling around this guy and the thought of spending time with Phil was accompanied by a general desire to do so. “Are we talking Real Philly Cheesesteaks? I have pretty high standards.”

“I am from Philly and I can guarantee you the best damn sandwich you’ll have outside of it.” Phil put his hand on his heart. “Cross my heart.

“Well, I have no choice but to say yes then. If only to see if your cooking can live up to your mouth.” They had stepped away from the butcher counter at this part and Clint noticed they had moved into each others personal space while talking.

“My mouth is probably better than my cooking. But you can decide that later.” Phil’s ears turned a little red at the comment even as he said it.

Clint felt a little frisson of desire set up residence low in his belly. “You’re on. Can I bring anything?”

Phil shook his head “I’ve got it all.” He opened his phone and typed in a name before handing it to Clint. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address and directions.” and then as Clint did “Does five o’clock give you enough time to finish everything and take time to eat and relax?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let me know if I need to pick anything up for you. I feel like a slacker for not bringing anything.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about that. It’s hard when you’re living out of a hotel room. Your company will be great for a Saturday night.”

Clint couldn’t argue with that. He would just take Phil out next time. That would make him feel better and the thought of there being a next time wasn’t a bad one, either.

The knock on the door marked 5 o’clock sharp and Phil smiled. It either meant that Clint was punctual or he was as eager to see Phil as Phil was to see him. Tonight was going to prove interesting because the flirting had been received and reciprocated and while Clint seemed the type to be friendly with everyone, flirting took it a step further. Phil pulled the door open and took a step back to let the other man in.

“You could have just told me you lived over the bar.”

Phil smirked at him. “But it was a much more subtle way to get your digits.” Oh, Phil really liked that laugh.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘get my digits’. All you had to do was say… ‘Hey, Clint. What’s your number?’ and I would have given them to you.” Not once had Clint’s eyes stopped their perusal of Phil. Taking note of the gray polo over yet another pair of worn jeans and raising his eyebrows when he got to bare feet. When Phil just shrugged Clint leaned closer and pulled Phil into a casual hug, taking a longer breath than normal when his face was near Phil’s neck. The subtle hint of soap, musk, and warmth making him want to lick him before he pulled back to an acceptable distance.

Phil released the breath he didn’t know he had held, Clint’s closeness unexpected but very very welcome. “Direct and to the point. I’ll remember that.” He cleared his throat slightly to fix the deeper timbre. “So, take your shoes off. Beer is in the fridge. I got a nice selection and all will go with dinner so whatever looks good to you and grab me one too.” Phil washed up his hands again.

Clint did as he was told. Opening one bottle for Phil and handing it over, he perused the rest of the choices and then pulled one at random. Phil glanced over to see what he chose and got treated to Clint’s head tilted back taking a long swallow of the ice cold beer. Damn, that man was pretty.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff right there. For some reason I like more of the late summer/early fall brews.”

Phil dumped the thin sliced veggies into the hot pan for a few minutes before the beef. “I believe it. They have more earth to them. I will say though. The brewer’s wife was pregnant once and craved apples like crazy. By the time that was done no one in the district wanted anything to do with anything apple. Including the ciders that are so popular during fall. That was a weird year.”

Clint laughed and leaned forward onto the kitchen island that separated him from Phil, his mouth watering as the smells of veggies, meat, and seasoning combined. The griddle pan was hot to toast the bread as the cheese got put on top of the meat and before another conversation could start the sandwiches were turned out onto the bread and plates. Phil motioned for him to sit on a stool and put his plate in front of him.

“I have to say I cheated and brought up some jalapeno poppers and fresh fried chips.” he swallowed some of his own beer as he reached for the plates in question and pulled the lids off.

“It’s all good by me.” Clint pulled a couple of paper towels off the roll and put on near each plate before starting to doctor up his sandwich. 

It was a good sign that Phil didn’t stare at him with too much horror as he was doing so. Clint chuckled softly at the expression though. Phil, on the other hand went over to the fridge and reached in to grab another beer. “Any preference?”

Clint’s attention was caught on the curve of Phil’s ass in those jeans. His muttered ‘uh uh.’ could be blamed on the bite of cheesesteak he had taken. Yep. It could. The fact that he needed to swallow twice because Phil’s fingers slid over his in the condensation on the bottle. That was just because he took too big of a bite. That thought completely changed his conversation so by the time Phil looked up at him from adding things to HIS sandwich there were certain thoughts and actions that needed to be done. Clint’s expression nearly undid him and Phil stood up and walked around the bar. One large hand cupped Clint’s jaw and Phil’s eyes met Clint’s directly.

_“I’m going to kiss you unless you object now.”_ Phil thought to himself. 

Clint’s mouth was on his before the words were out. His own hand curving around Phil’s neck, tilting his head slightly to align them even better together. The hard press of lips parting for the soft slide of tongue as the kiss deepened and Phil moved into the vee of Clints legs. Moving closer, hands sliding over denim and cotton, a thumb sliding over a small patch of stubble missed by shaving. Slowly the kiss ended, eyes still closed, breathing each other’s air as they lingered in each others space.

“I think we should finish eating and retire to the couch and return to kissing as soon as possible.” Phil murmured against his mouth.

“I am very agreeable to that plan.” Clint whispered back.

The plan didn’t quite go as smoothly as all that. There were burnt tongues from cheese, talks about onion breath, spilled chips, and stubbed toes. All that was made up for with the long makeout session that followed; leaving both men warm, sluggish, and horny but willing to wait until the next time to follow through on all that promise.


End file.
